


Please Don't Stop The Music

by commanderlurker (honeybee592)



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dancing, M/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: For the prompt, 'A night out turns into a night on James.'Set after Paragon Lost and the before start of ME3.





	Please Don't Stop The Music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DalishGrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DalishGrey/gifts).



> I took your prompt and ran with it...

Thrumming bass shoved away any negative thoughts. Low lights flickering red and blue and purple made everyone as anonymous as the wanted to be. That’s what Omega was all about, right? And down here, way down in the filth and dirt, lay Afterlife, the heart of this conquered asteroid. Time didn’t mean much in here. James hadn’t looked at his omni since he’d checked in. He had nowhere to be and no one to meet, so things like time didn’t matter. Music, drinks, bodies, dancing. That’s all that mattered. He had all four right here and he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

When he didn’t have a partner, he danced alone, eyes half closed, with a mind only for the beat. But when someone came his way, eyes catching the light and nodding to him, he grinned and let them in. Forgetting your mistakes was always easier with a hot body against your own. One guy had been as tall as James but as thin as a pole. He moved like liquid and had flowed away just as smoothly. An asari, too, sharp, keen and _damn fine_. But she left with someone else. No matter.

James was lost in the beat when, just for a moment, the dancers parted, revealing the silhouette of a man. This man was something else and it wasn’t just the way a spotlight fell on the back of him, giving him a soft blue halo while completely blacking out his face. His face… glowed. Not like a night light, but like the stars. Pin pricks of red spread across his forehead and down to his cheeks, his neck. Cybernetics of some kind, but nothing James had ever seen. The guy looked familiar, too, but that was probably just the way he carried himself as he joined the party. Military, that much obvious. Human, so probably Alliance. The crowd closed in and there he was, in front of James. He hadn’t made eye contact and was keeping a polite distance--too polite for this place--but he intrigued James, even though he’d been in his life for all of five seconds. Still, five seconds could be life and death in certain situations. The guy was in his own world though, so James didn’t think any more of him, twisting away, not worrying about where his arms went, aware of his own body enough to know he wouldn’t hit the mystery guy.

The song wound down, bleeding into the next, and yeah, now this beat was James’ style. Timbales struck up, all brash and loud, making James grin. For a moment he was eighteen again, back on the beaches of San Diego, dancing away a humid night with a hot chica and not a care on the world. Only now he was far from home, pushing twenty six and with the death of his squad on his hands.

The air shifted, pressure changed. Someone close. James let the beat carry him around, hand grazing the arm of the guy. Much closer now, like,right up in James’ space. Dios, the man could move. James grinned. He would work with this. But the guy needed a name, something to fit the fantasy that James’ cock was rapidly forming.

Stud. Yeah, that would work.

Stud danced with his back to James but the way he dipped told James he knew he had company. So James gave Stud’s shoulder an experimental brush, letting his hand linger. Tight, corded muscle under that tee. Stud shimmied back, ass right in James’ crotch. All right then, yeah. He trailed his hand down Stud’s side, cupping his hip, claiming it. He licked his lips and put his other hand around Stud’s waist, not dragging him in. Just encouraging. Stud shifted his rhythm to match James’ as he leant right back, pressed against James’ chest, hand reaching behind to grab James’ thigh.

Holy hell.

James let his own hands rove over Stud’s thighs, over his hips again, his abs. A finger caught the hem of his tee and stroked scorching smooth skin. Stud’s head fell back against James’ shoulder and neither of them missed a beat. Stud’s body pressed against James creating all sorts of friction, the hard beat of the music driving them closer together with every thud, his ear against James’ lips.

“ _Te ves como un ángel aquí, pero bailas como el diablo_.” _You turn up here looking like an angel but you move like the devil._ He meant it, too. And despite the heat, Stud shivered, so James closed his teeth over the shell of his ear and dragged ever so gently. Stud groaned, though James only really felt it through his chest. A deep, resonant rumble that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

That’s how they stayed, grinding and dancing, hot and heavy all the way through the next few songs. Some time in there James went from half-mast to hard as fuck. No way Stud couldn’t’ve noticed, and when James let his hand stray, he found he had an equal. And even though Stud was leaning back on James, making James take his weight, following James’ moves, something about this guy screamed control--he wasn’t making James do _all_ the work. That became obvious when James bumped into the wall.

Fuck, when had that ever been on his trajectory? Then, with James’ back pressed flat against the cool prefab, Stud twisted one-eighty leaving James with a view of nothing else but that face. But only for a second. Rough lips met his, soft tongue and heat, fuck, so much heat. He kissed back, giving what he could, slipping his hands up Stud’s back, to his head, palms raking through his hair, buzzed as short as his own but lacking the fine, fine fauxhawk.

Up against that wall, their bodies pressed hard against one another, there was no mistaking how turned on either of them were now. They’d both gone too far down this road to make apologies and turn around.

Stud pulled back, gave James’ face a once over, then dived for his neck, sucking hard. Good thing he wouldn’t be reporting for duty tomorrow. The shit he’d get for all the hickies...

“You Alliance?” Stud asked against James’ neck. More of a murmur, despite the music.

“Uh huh.” Then, because that was still up for debate right now, “Kinda. But I’m up to date, if that’s what you’re asking.” James felt the grin against his neck, the way Stud’s lips tightened, stretched, the hot puff of a laugh. “You?”

“Used to be. But I’m up to date, if that’s what you’re asking.” He cupped James’ crotch and James groaned, pushing into the touch. Fuck, he needed more and soon.

“Shall we get the fuck out of here?” James asked.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Stud pulled away, grabbing James’ hand and dragging him through the dance floor and out of Afterlife, into a dank and poorly lit side-entrance.

Not all of James had gone AWOL. He glanced around as they walked, shooting daggers at anyone thinking him and his new friend were too far gone to become an easy target. Just a batarian or two, blinking all their eyes in that creepy way of theirs, and a turian leaning against a crate, throwing up something blue. But maybe he’d been paying too much attention to everything else and not enough to the guy he’d left with because he found himself pressed up against a shuttle with one hand dangerously close to his jugular.

But it was just another kiss. _Just another kiss_. Another one of those hot, searing, _melting_ kisses that made James forget to breathe. Then it was over, leaving James dazed, and they were walking again, faster this time. At least one of them had a plan.

Another stop a few levels up. Fuck, Stud was something else. And sure, this was just gonna be a one time thing, but that didn’t mean pleasantries had to be set aside. Probably should’ve done this earlier, anyway. James pulled out from the kiss. “Hey, you got a name?”

“Sure. You?”

Okay… Was that an invitation to go first or a brush off? “James,” James offered. “Just James.”

The guy grinned. He looked like he was gonna take the piss, but he licked his bottom lip instead. “Alan.”

Like James was gonna buy that. Whatever, it would do. Better than Stud. The pause for conversation gave James enough time to take in more of Alan’s face. The red scars weren’t as bright now but they still split through dark skin. And his eyes… dios, his pupils were blown so wide James couldn’t see what colour they really were, and when he tilted his head, even his irises flickered red. That’s some expensive enhancements for an Alliance guy, ex or no. But fuck, as much as he wanted to ask, James’ didn’t need his life story, just his bed. They got to that soon enough. Not much of a place, but it wasn’t like anyone lived in mansions on Omega. The security looked tight though, and the bed firm. For James, that was all that really mattered.

And now that he had some breathing space? Time to regain some control of the situation. Not that he ever really had any to start with. He shoved Alan towards the bed and grinned when Alan put his hands up in mock surrender and fell backwards. James climbed on top and closed the space between them, recreating how they’d ended up back at the bar. Only _this_ time James was the one to land the hot kisses and dig his fingers in. Until Alan bucked him off. James tumbled to the other side of the bed. _Dios_ , he was stronger than he looked.  Alan was on him instantly, peeling him out of his tee, taking his tags along with it. Hint taken. While James battled with his shoes and belt and pants, he caught a glimpse of Alan out the corner of his eye, placing both their dog tags on the bedside table with more care than James thought necessary. Not that he didn’t appreciate the gesture--trying to find them on the floor in a few hours time wasn’t something he wanted to have to do.

After Alan’s clothes unceremoniously hit the floor, they were on each other again. Alan felt just as good as he looked. All hard muscle, but scared as fuck. Some of those scars glowed that freaky red, too. Hot. But freaky. No tattoos, no immediately distinguishing features. James caught Alan off balance and pushed him back down onto the bed. He made his intentions known by grabbing Alan’s cock and stroking, kissing his way down his chest to nestle between his legs.

Dios, and what a cock it was. Thick and dark, jutting out from trim, black hair. Just the right size for him to really show off his skills. James closed his lips around the head, pressed his tongue against it. Fuck, yes. Below him, Alan thrust up just a little, made a contented sigh. His fingers found James’ head, scratching lazily through James’ hair.

James took more of him into his mouth, savouring the taste and smell. Been too long since he’d done this. Without realising, he found himself bobbing along to a beat. Music? Where had that come from? Had Alan put it on while James’d been getting undressed or…? Didn’t matter. It was nice, chill synth with a deep, regular beat for James to follow. He twisted his hand around Alan’s cock every time he pulled up; tongued his head once, twice, then sucked him down again. Didn’t neglect his balls either, nosing them when his mouth needed a break, moaning at that fucking hot musk that enveloped him. His own cock throbbed under him, trapped against the sheet but he didn’t let himself grind. His turn would come.

Seemed the music got to Alan, too. He thrust in time, just gently, encouraging James to go deeper, take more. James did his best but resisted when the hands in his hair got too insistent. Alan’s grip softened, one hand resting while the other fell to James’ shoulder to dig in. He made these adorable rasping moans the whole time, making James grin around a mouthful of cock, lips tight.  He chanced a glance and saw Alan’s head thrown back, his back arched. As much as he wanted to finish Alan off now, swallow down his come, the night was still young. So he worked him a just a few moments longer, getting him real close before popping off.

“Why’d you stop?” Alan’s whine was laced with frustration, even anger.

James swallowed his chastisement, wiped his mouth and looked up. Alan’s chest heaved, cock bobbing in James’ periphery. “I didn’t--we just got started, you know?” Shit, if he got tossed out on his ass now--

“Nah, you’re good. I can go again.” He propped himself up on one elbow and waved at his body with his free hand. “Unintended consequences. Cybernetics. All that shit.”

Huh. That still didn’t make much sense but at least he had a clear brief. He dipped down, about to return to sucking when Alan pulled him up again.

“Wait!” Alan said. James looked up. “You okay if I… in your mouth?” James’ impatience evaporated as delight turned into a grin. “Probably should’ve asked earlier…”

“Just tell me when you’re gonna blow.” James didn’t wait for a reply. He just dipped back down, closing his lips around the head of Alan’s cock and swirling his tongue around. A heavy sigh and fingers gripping his hair told him all he needed to know. He didn’t stop this time, building Alan up again, groaning as he sucked and licked.

He hardly needed the warning. Could tell it was coming just from the panting and writhing. Then, a few seconds after a breathless, _coming_ , Alan’s cock pulsed around James’ hand and in his mouth, salty come coating his tongue. He took it all, swallowing, encouraging as much as he could before gently letting go. He wiped his mouth again as he looked up, got onto his knees. Alan lay there with one arm over his eyes, his other limp by his side. Yeah, that’s what James liked to see. Though when he looked like that, James doubted his recharge claims. But Alan only needed to lie there for as long as it took to get his breath back. Then he was on James, all over him, lips, teeth, hands, body, pushing him down into the bed to completely own him.

Alan was no less attentive with James. He even seemed to get James’ desire to make this last as long as possible, edging back when James got too close, popping off all together to kiss his way back up to James’ neck and lips before giving him a tug or two and going back down.

Fuck, this was fast becoming the hottest one night stand James had ever had. No, scratch that. It’d earned that badge ages ago. Now it was just cementing itself in the record book.

Could’ve been hours. Or minutes. No fuckin’ way James could tell. He lost time as if he was back in the club, dancing to forget his mistakes. His body and mind had fused so hard there was no separating them. He tried to keep his eyes open, keep his attention on that fucking hot man who was in the process of completing wrecking him, so he could memorise every detail and replay it again and again, but he just couldn't. His whole body tingled, toes splayed wide, fingers gripping the sheet and Alan’s shoulder and for a second he thought maybe Alan was a biotic but even that thought fluttered away under the onslaught of pleasure meted out on him.

He came, loud and hard, his cock in Alan’s hand. Fuck knows how far he shot his load. Or where. Fuck. He groaned as Alan continued to stroke him, drawing out as much pleasure as he could until even that got to be too much. He pushed Alan away with a feeble shove and just lay there, panting, sweat already cooling his sizzling hot skin. He finally opened his eyes. Took a moment to focus. And there was Alan, sitting up looking down at James, cock in hand. Hard. Already?

“Shit, you weren't kidding, were you,” James said.

Alan grunted a laugh. “Watching you was all I needed. You put on a good show. Wanna watch another?” He gave his cock a long, slow stroke and despite what he’d just been through, James’ mouth watered.

“Shit, yeah.” And he shuffled back, sitting up against the headboard so he could make the most of this loco opportunity.

Then Alan started his show.

*

James shrugged his tee on, pulling his pants up, buttoning and buckling fly and belt as quiet as he could. Alan may’ve been able to go all night long but he sure did sleep like the dead. James went to snag his tags off the bedside table but changed his mind and picked them up gently instead. As he reached for his, the light caught, glinting off Alan’s. They were Alliance all right, but not just any old Alliance. There, in stark relief was the most sought after rank of any grunt who dreamed of glory: N7. With a glance at Alan to make sure he was still asleep, James nudged the tags apart. His stomach dropped to the floor and his world keeled over.

Alan wasn’t shitting when he gave James his name. There it was, along with his service number, date of birth and blood type, in solid capital letters. The kicker? His surname. James put the whole lot together. Alan Shepard, N7.

Alan fucking Shepard. He was supposed to be dead. He _had_ died. It’d been all over the news, in every corner of the galaxy. James would remember exactly where he was and what he was doing when he heard that the Normandy had gone down until the day he died himself.

But here was Shepard, his taste still in James’ mouth, his sweat plastered on his skin, his kisses, his smell, his moans still ringing in James’ ears.

So. The rumours _were_ true. He was back.

James looked from the tags to the man, cocking his head.

Huh. You know, he looked _different_ from the vids.

*

Give the galaxy a little breathing space, a little more time to prepare for the apocalypse and what did he get in return? Arrest. A show trial. Fucking load of shit. The door opened and in walked Anderson followed by a real classic jarhead.

“Shepard, good to see you’re settling in,” Anderson said. “Let me introduce Lieutenant James Vega. He’ll be your babysitter during this farce. Play nice, okay. Don’t give him any trouble.”

Something about this guy looked familiar. The way he looked at Shepard wide-eyed, the way he gulped as he saluted but otherwise kept his mouth firmly shut. Could’ve been star struck. Wasn’t that uncommon. But the name… James… his stereotypical jarhead haircut, his build, the love and care he obviously had for body. That was common enough for guys like them, but... Shepard looked at the guy, really looked him over, and it came to him. _You turn up here looking like an angel but you move like the devil._ The whole night replayed in an instant. He grinned, wicked, and stuck his hand out for James.  Without looking away, he said to Anderson, “I’m sure we’re going to get on just fine.”

James clapped his hand in Shepard’s, grinning too. Yeah, maybe this house arrest wouldn’t be so bad after all.


End file.
